To Russia With Love (Countermeasure Series) (39 page)

One would say Fyodor was a cynic, but he preferred to call himself a realist. It was twenty-first-century Russia after all.

The Russian mafia had eyes, ears, and fingers everywhere they could. The rule of thumb was, the more influence and contacts one had, the more powerful one became; the more powerful one became, the richer they grew. To those who had very few emotional attachments, money was everything.

At midnight, the phone rang and Fyodor answered on the first ring, “
Da
?”

The voice on the other end of the call responded in Russian, in a very calm and precise manner. “The man left the apartment in the morning. Alexei followed him to Mikhailov’s mansion. He arrived at ten thirty. He has not left the mansion since.”

”What about the woman?” he prompted.

“The woman is still in the apartment. Lights are on right now.” The summary was given in a clipped tone. By the sound of it, the people assigned to the surveillance detail had been bored to death watching those two.

“Keep them covered. Report any new developments,” he ordered, and hung up.

Boris had assured Fyodor he was going to get his hands on what he needed, told him to be patient. He was just trying to make sure that happened, his own way.

Fyodor leaned back against the chair, downed the shot of vodka in one gulp—its burn an old friend chasing away the cold of uncertainty of Boris’s loyalty—and took the last drag of his cigarette. Snuffing it out, he walked out of the library to his bedroom for a short sleep. Duty called early every day.

Crumbling

“W
HAT DO YOU THINK?” JESSICA held the cushions up for Stephan’s scrutiny. “Red or green?”

He compared the color against the creamy tone of her skin and made his choice. “Red.”

“That’s what I thought, too.” She dropped the green back on the display and picked up a matching red one.

Stephan indulged in the familiarity of the moment. Buying items for Jessica’s new apartment, helping her select new clothes, and even the occasional grocery shopping trip mattered to him. He had never felt so alive. She brought light and laughter to his world where shadows and silence once reigned.

He observed the woman who had been the center of his thoughts long before they came to be partners in bed. The sex was more than good. Her vitality and impetuous behavior made for unforgettable nights…and days. But that wasn’t what kept him tied to her like an anchored boat. Everything about her made sense. Everything she did, every gesture, every crazy comment, every deep laugh they shared made him want more of her.

The only time he was ever close to being that happy was when Layla….
Where the hell had that come from?
Time had reinforced the barriers around his heart, suppressing all thoughts of her. Her name had always been a source of painful recollections in the past, but somehow, for the first time, he didn’t feel the usual twinge of pain or the fist around his heart.

“I think I have all I need.”

“And then some?” he chuckled at her enthusiasm.

Stephan followed Jessica with his eyes and warmth ignited in his chest at the sight of her contagious smile.
How had they gotten to that point so fast?
He frowned. He had dropped all his defenses and allowed her to stroll into his life, but Layla’s name had been a grim reminder of what was sure to happen, given time. The memory of that last day with Layla filled his mouth with the bitter taste of bile. At least this time around he knew what to expect.

Gathering her purchases, Jessica approached him. “Do you think we have time to grab a bite? I’m starved.”

“When are you not starved?” he joked, taking the bags from her. “Allow me.”

Jessica hooked her arm around his as they walked toward the exit. They were good together. Her youth and lively personality gave him a sense of what had been missing from his life for so long. If only he could hold onto that. If only it could be just the two of them, nothing more. He was immediately struck by the selfishness of his thought. She deserved more. Much more. He had no right to stop her from achieving what she wanted and dreamed of.

As they drove to a nice restaurant near the store, he considered telling her everything, letting her decide their future. Uncertainty gripped him again when he considered the repercussions. She was smitten. She wanted to be with him. He knew what her answer would be, but that didn’t change the fact that later down the road she would resent her decision. She chose that moment to brush her hand along his thigh, another comfortable gesture he so wanted to keep all to himself. He glimpsed at her, her smile a mile wide. Lately, Stephan had lived with dread churning in his gut. The more she meant to him, the more he waited for the axe to fall.

At the restaurant, once seated, Stephan leaned on the table and gathered her hand in his. It was just a way to maintain contact—touching her was one of his many pleasures. His eyes traced her features, committing each expression to memory. In that moment, he realized he couldn’t speak up just yet. He would give it time. Let their relationship grow stronger and then, selfishly, he could leverage on that to keep her. “Have you heard from Cassandra and Trevor?”

“Actually I have. I’ve been working on some research for Cassie. Almost finished with it. She wanted it yesterday. Bossy woman. But it has been a bear of an assignment. Not a lot of information readily available, and it has required some digging.” A deep frown marred Jessica’s brow. “I’m a little worried. She mentioned things are different there and she wants to cover her back, whatever that means.”

“Well, I am sure everything is fine. They would contact us if they were in trouble. At least I hope they would.”

“I’m sure they…would.” Jessica’s eyes were drawn to the couple walking in the restaurant.

The wife, heavily pregnant, tugged the hand of a little boy. The husband helped her to her seat and sat the little boy in his highchair. Laughter drifted from their table. The woman pulled toys from a bag and set them in front of the toddler and the little one pounced on them with a squeal of delight.

Stephan followed Jessica’s gaze to the happy couple. The sight of them propelled him back in time.

“Marry me, Layla,”
he asked her after another night spent at the pub with their friends. They had been living together for a couple of years and she had deflected his proposals several times before.

“Why do we need to be married to enjoy each other’s company?”
she responded with the same old litany she always did when he asked.

“Don’t you want to live happily ever after with me?”

“I already am! We don’t need a piece of paper to prove that.”

She had again talked him out of it. Back when he was in his early twenties, Stephan had loved Layla in a young and careless way, so on par with his impetuous behavior. Looking back, he should have been happy she hadn’t accepted it, considering what went down not long after that. He wouldn’t have wanted to make her wait the four long years required by law in Ireland before she could get what she wanted—what he couldn’t give her. Although he could rationalize the clean break between them, it hadn’t make things any easier to accept. That day had forged him into the man he was now. That day had taught him a lesson in selflessness, but had also made him unable to relinquish control over his heart, over his relationships.

Jessica was caught up in watching the family of three, soon to be four, sharing a casual lunch. At one point, the woman jumped in her chair with a little gasp and then giggled with excitement as she grabbed for her husband and little one’s hands and placed them on her distended belly. After a few minutes, rich laughter filled the room as they all shared the magical moment of the baby’s kicks against the palms of their hands. Jessica couldn’t hold back a wide smile when the toddler cried out, “Again, again. Mama, make him do it again.”

The boy snared Jessica’s attention. A sweet little imp with a thatch of dark hair and sparkling innocent blue eyes, a typical Irish child. The whole scene left her wondering what it would be like to have a family of her own. To be the kind of mother hers had been—loving, caring, always ready to kiss her boo-boos better. She sighed deeply and prayed she would be a good mother when the time came. For now, she was content with her lot in life and, selfishly, she wasn’t ready to share the man of her dreams. She wanted to keep him to herself for a little while longer. She couldn’t ask for more.

Stephan watched the whole train of emotions cross Jessica’s eyes and wanted to scream, bang his fists against the table, punch a wall.
Too early! I haven’t had you long enough! I need more time.
But he knew it was inevitable, he knew he couldn’t prevent what was coming next. He knew she would eventually want what that couple had. Layla’s memory creeping up on him at this time had surely been a bad omen. The tightness in his chest—that tightness you had when you knew something bad was about to happen—had dogged his heels for days. It was like witnessing a train wreck, unable to contain the disaster, unable to help those trapped inside.

He sat there blank, hollow, shaken, watching the scene with the young family unfold and absorbing its effect on Jessica. Lost in his misery, he didn’t realize she’d turned her attention back to him. “Are you okay?”

The weight of her hand on his and her words drew him back to their world. “Yes.” Deflecting the attention from himself, he asked, nodding at the menu, “Have you decided?”

“I’m divided between the fish and the stew. Both sound delicious.”

“How about we get one of each and share?”

A happy grin spread across her face. “That sounds good!”

After their orders were placed, Stephan masked his feelings and made it through the rest of the dinner on the tail of false pleasantries. The tenderness Stephan witnessed in Jessica’s eyes earlier had been like a serrated knife to his heart, shredding as it sliced its way through him, leaving a crumbling mess behind. He needed time alone to think, regroup. Time to deal with the decision he had to make on his own, for her benefit. On the way back home, he detoured in the direction of Trevor and Cassandra’s address.

Jessica frowned as they pulled up to the restored Georgian house across from St. Stephen’s Green. “I thought we were going to your house. Why are we here?”

“I remembered at dinner that I have to meet a client later over drinks. Purely business. I’m sorry, I should have said something earlier. I don’t know how late the meeting will run. I figured you would be more comfortable here instead of bored out of your mind waiting for me at my place.”

Jessica’s heart sank; she could smell an excuse from miles away. She had spent hours waiting for him at his house before. What the hell just happen? What had changed?

“Are you sure? I mean—”

“I am sure. I don’t know what time I will be back. I will call you tomorrow.” He avoided her gaze as he exited the car and rounded it to help her.

At the front door, she hesitated before opening it. As she was about to cross the threshold, he pulled her into his arms, cupped her face with tender hands, and took her mouth hungrily. His spicy taste flooded her system, the smell of his musky aftershave invaded her senses.

Stephan’s warm touch called for her to pull him in and have her way with him. Jessica’s heart strummed erratically in reaction to the hint of longing and despair she sensed in that kiss. Jessica reached for him, desperate to return to the love and happiness she had felt only moments ago, but he broke the kiss and stepped back, exhaling a deep shaky breath.

“Stephan. I don’t understand.” When he didn’t elaborate, her heart sank to her stomach and her arms dropped at her sides. “Call me tomorrow?” She noticed he hesitated for a millisecond.

“Yes. Tomorrow.” His thumb softly caressed her cheek as he leaned down and gave her a quick peck on her lips. “Go in. I don’t want to leave you outside.”

She walked into the house and turned to watch his retreating back as he made his way to the car. She caught the look of regret that clouded his eyes as he shot one last glance in her direction before he drove off into the cold dark night. That look sent a trail of ice inching up her spine, chilling her to the bone.

Hellish Days